


the problem with wine and slow dances

by slythos



Series: tell-tale-tales [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Angst, Fluff, M/M, not rainbows and unicorns, something else that's not fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-03-17 00:58:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18954697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slythos/pseuds/slythos
Summary: The problem with wine and slow dances is that they force you to remember and forget, all at the same time.





	the problem with wine and slow dances

**Author's Note:**

> for the purpose of the narrative, jaemin and the gang are around their middle 20s. 
> 
> pls enjoy this short treat! <3

**MOST OF THE PEOPLE** inside that room, if not all, are under the impression that Huang Renjun is perfect. 

Jaemin couldn't blame them. Not when he walks like he's gliding on the ground, self and clothes carried with such grace, and dark red hair styled in a way that compliments his all-white suit; parted, and patted down slick to the side. The silver earrings dangle and glitter as he moves about, laughing, talking, drinking from the same wine glass he's carrying ever since the night started. Jaemin could tell it's the same one. The wine in it is barely touched. Jaemin could also tell. Renjun isn't much of a wine person. He's more the soju-kind despite not having the tolerance for it. 

“I like the color though,” he said to him once when Jaemin offered him some in the parlor of his house once, lounging lazily in front of the flickering fireplace and toying with the liquid Jaemin would otherwise down himself in a go (he  _is_  the wine person between the two), “but it kind of reminds me of blood. And I don't like the smell.”

Renjun asked him for some soju instead and Jaemin thanked the stars he keeps his liquor cabinet stocked to accommodate Renjun’s whims. 

The venue isn't the same, but the abundance of fancy drinks serves to Jaemin's delight. He's on his fifth glass of champagne. Renjun remains in his first, excellently faking sips that deem tiny grimaces barely conceivable between quaint sips and bold smiles. Even from across the room, Jaemin could tell. 

Jaemin could always tell. 

Jaemin could also tell Renjun needs and wants to be saved from everyone who thinks he's the most perfect human they've ever laid their eyes on. 

He twirls in his seat to face the bustling bartender behind the bar, nodding at him expectantly. “Another one please.” 

He gives him another round. “That's sixth.”

“Don't worry, I've had more before.” Jaemin smiles. 

“Mm, before ended up good?”

Jaemin gives a tiny peek over his shoulder to scan the room for the man in white and hair in red, still laughing at a joke Xiaojun has said across the room. “Yeah, I'd love to think so.”

The bartender gives him a smirk then proceeds to coo at the tipsy lady, wobbling towards the counter. Jaemin takes another sip and decides he's being creepy for staring too long. 

 

*

 

 **JAEMIN LIKES PARTIES.**  In occasions more than one, he finds himself perched in front with a microphone in his hand and steering the merriment to its maximum potential. It's the toastmaster seminars and courses he's taken ever since middle school that kindled the instinct to talk in his very nature and maybe his incredible dislike to anything boring thus taking it upon himself to stir the pot so it wouldn't die out halfway through. Jaemin knows exactly what to say, so people around him also like him at parties. He likes parties and talking so much he’s made it his side-profession. A toastmaster at parties. He needs the extra money because being a teacher doesn’t pay well enough.

But tonight, Donghyuck has taken the rein of control over what goes and what doesn't with his deadpan jokes and lousy hold on the microphone. Understandably so, it's his birthday and things were started to go downhill when people almost forgot what they came here for and begin fawning over the wrong man.  

The mic feedbacks the way it does when a drunk holds it. Some kind of technical reinforcement whose purpose is mainly comedic effect. “I will sing you guys a song because that always wins me the attention of older people when I was a cute kid.”

The guests laugh. Donghyuck sounds drunk because he does a good job talking like he's drunk, but anyone who knows Donghyuck well can tell he really isn't. 

Donghyuck begins singing, finally at the center of everything as he should and guests begin to sway to his saccharine tunes, finally remembering this is why they come here tonight and not to flock around someone who doesn't want the attention. 

He sees him making his way down to the bar, nursing the same glass wine he's had but the volume half the last time he glimpsed. Renjun shakes his head when the bartender offers another round, leaning against the counter a few feet to Jaemin's right. 

Donghyuck is still singing. 

“How much did you drink?” he hears him ask from the distance, but Jaemin makes no effort acknowledging it. “Hey.”

Jaemin turns to him innocently. “Hmm?”

“I said, how much did you drink?”

“I can still drive if that's what you're concerned about.” 

The bartender, who is in earshot wiping down glasses, turns to him with muted concern. Jaemin winks at him playfully. 

“I don't think so,” Renjun says. He slides along the counter to close the distance, arm bumping against Jaemin's. “You like champagne too much. I don't trust you around champagne.”

Jaemin laughs. “And it looks like you couldn't be trusted with wine either.”

Renjun's face morphs into blatant disgust, “It tasted horrible. Biggest regret of my life so far.”

Jaemin laughs some more, the airy, light-headed feeling boosting a simple scrunch of Renjun's otherwise perfect features into something that looks comical to his eyes. “Do you need saving?”

Renjun does. He knows it. “What?”

He reaches over to grab Renjun's glass and chugs the remaining liquid in one go. He flinches at the rush of new, bitter taste and the absence of bubbles he grew familiar with tonight, but breaks out the kind of wacky grin only a drunk would. “Let’s dance.”

 

*

 

 **“I SHOULDN'T** have come. Do you think I shouldn't have?”

It isn't so much as a dance. Just exaggerated, synchronized stepping to the left and right. Renjun is leading because of his innate dancer ego. Jaemin follows because he wants to. Donghyuck's ballad ended a few minutes ago. He's currently halfway through a jazz  _Despacito_ rendition of his with an unusually worked up crowd which must mean he has proceeded to the next level of entertainment and plucked out an unwilling volunteer to dance with him onstage. 

It's a little cliché if Jaemin thinks about it too hard. The moonlight beaming calmly overhead, a soft welcome into the night, bright enough to make all the silvers on Renjun shine and to let Jaemin see his face as clearly as he can in the day. (It might also be because it is seared into the back of his eyes, a stubbornly evocative image he could never shake off.) Jazz music. Under the moonlight. Cliché for Jaemin if he were sober, probably romantic for Jaemin in his sober yet pop culture-muddled brain. Thankfully, thinking is a hard enough chore for his bleary brain so he doesn't bother. Even standing upright requires every bit of his brainpower. 

“I don't think,” Jaemin replies, squeezing Renjun's hand on his in an attempt to slow the twirling down. Renjun gets the message and barely keeps a soft chuckle to himself when he gears down to mindless swaying. “If you didn’t, Donghyuck would kill you.”

“Well, on the contrary. I think he's beginning to enjoy himself now that I'm not there.”

To prove his point, the crowd inside bursts into gleeful laughter along with Donghyuck's boisterous guffaw echoing on the microphone. 

“Hmm, yes. I see your point. It's your fault for being the famous, handsome lawyer-to-be whom no one has seen in months.”

Renjun twirls both of them sharply to the side. Jaemin tetters, his guts lurching but steadies his footing with the aid of Renjun’s reliable arm. The guy is a lot stronger than he looks. ” _Shit,”_ Jaemin curses under his breath from vertigo. “Do  _not_ do that again.”

“Yes, I do think it's my fault. The kid deserves all of the attention. It's his birthday for goodness sake.”

Jaemin hates himself for letting his head fall on Renjun's shoulder. Hates himself even more for croaking, “Please don't do that again.”

Renjun laughs into his hair. “Do what?”

 

*

 

 **RENJUN DOESN'T LIKE PARTIES ALL THE TIME.** **He doesn’t look it but his pleasant attitude does not extend outside mandatory gatherings that require a person to be pleasant around people. (He listed “humans” as one of his fears once.)** But for someone who would rather be buried under layers and layers of fluffy blankets in front of his laptop, watching all his favorite series for the 30th time, he puts up a pretty good front. Well, it's not so much as a front as it is a front for Jaemin to be steering the party wheel. Renjun enjoys the attention as much as any other normal human being with a congenital need for validation. They're both are pretty good at what they do. Both are inclined to do given their respective instincts. Jaemin instinctively talks. Renjun instinctively caters to people's sticky attention. But in his case, it's mostly the looks, Jaemin theorizes, which Renjun is too modest to acknowledge.

“It's the fact that I choose to become a lawyer instead of being a stripper like I originally planned to be. And they worship me for it,” Renjun shoots back and giggles at Jaemin's difficulty breathing through laughing too hard. “I'll let them know I’d make a wonderful stripper.”

“I know you would.”

Renjun doesn't want to go back inside so they didn't. The idea that he is taking advantage of Jaemin’s incapacity to make decisions for himself makes him feel dangerously warmer than before. Renjun has long since lost the tie and unbuttons his shirt up till where his collarbones peek, reaching over to do the same for Jaemin. “You know; you should take me out to dinner first before bedding the merchandise.”

Renjun laughs like he finds it amusing. “I know.”

(He probably does.)

They wander too far down the lakeside and sit side by side at the small shrine. A few clouds drift too close to the moon, obscuring the only illumination they have since both their phones died on them a few minutes ago. The moon peeps through every now and then, and it must be the alcohol talking but Jaemin finds himself wanting to lay on the cool ground to soak up the moonlight. His limbs slump being a little too tired from all the effort of keeping himself up and going against his every instinct to sink into the cool water.

“I didn’t know champagne can make you so tired.” He breaks the solemn silence they dived into the moment they silently agreed to admire the night the way it is.

“I’ll take you home if you want to. Get an early shuteye,” Renjun says softly. It gets carried in the wind like a butterfly fluttering its wings.

Suddenly, Jaemin gets slapped by the desire to kiss him.

Before they made it out of the suffocating gathering, it starts as a simmer at the pits of his stomach that turns feral and gradually claws up his throat. Barely a threat when there’s buzzing everywhere, a sudden undeniable peril in the silence. Loud. Roaring. A smooth surface without the resistance of friction, of anything from anyone because it’s just the two of them there. Anything could happen.

Renjun, on the other hand, is a calm sea basking in the moonlight. Shines like star cast away from the heavens.

Jaemin had always thought of Renjun as somewhat of a moon child. He’s always been more alive at night, lively, somehow. Brave. Does things he wouldn’t normally do in broad daylight. Runs away with Jaemin in tow and ignores speed limit, ramming down the highway, screaming at the top of his lungs. Kissing him much more commanding in the night. Like he owns him, like he wants to own him again and again. Renjun is intoxicating at night in an ineffable sense. Forward, but in a way Jaemin could get onboard with. He loves it.  

Even if everything else has changed, he’s still Renjun of the night.

“What are you thinking about?” Renjun asks him.

Jaemin sighs. “A lot of things.”

“What things?”

“Like... this is the part one of us does something stupid and ends up swimming in this lake.”

Renjun laughs soundlessly. “Sounds like something a drunk would do.”

“I might. If someone sober wouldn’t stop me.” Jaemin grins. “Drunks aren’t good swimmers.”

“Please don’t.” Renjun looks at him. “I’ll tie you to a tree if I have to.”

Jaemin laughs. He doesn’t kiss him, not even in his mind.

After a brand of silence that doesn’t deter anyone’s sanity, Renjun breaks it. “Why did you ask me if I needed saving?”

“Oh, you heard that?”

“I did.”

Jaemin shrugs. “Because I thought you did?”

“What gave it away?”

He chuckles. “You’re afraid of everyone and expectations.”

This brings a soft smile on Renjun’s lips. “What makes you think I’m afraid of everyone but you?”

“Please,” Jaemin laughs and looks at him. Looks at the star cast away from the heavens. “you’re never afraid of me.”

 

*

 

 **THEY GO** back inside before the party ends, just a little close to the end where they can still pretend to be there the entire time even if they weren’t. Renjun peels himself off Jaemin and caresses his back softly, whispering he’ll check on him soon before sauntering over to Donghyuck to give his good night.

Jaemin revisits the bar to ask another round of champagne but the bartender declines to give him any more. “I’m sorry, sir I think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

“You’re right. You’re right, I’ve had.” Jaemin sniffs. “What about a glass of water?”

“That I could give you,” the bartender says, smiling. He disappears for a minute and comes back with a pitcher of ice-cold water. “To clear the head.”

“Thanks.”

Jaemin regrets chugging all of it in one gulp. He quivers with intense brain freeze.

“Oh my god, Jaemin. Look at you.”

Jaemin smiles and turns to the voice, a goofy grin plastered on his lips. “Jeno, my brother.”

“Geez, how drunk are you?”

“Adequately,” he slurs. “it’s a party.”

“Bad choice after bad choice.” Jeno clicks his tongue. “I’ll take you home. Come on. On your feet.”

Jaemin plants his chin on his hand, gazing lovingly at Jeno through hooded eyes. “I’m not _that_ drunk I’m just pretending to be.”

“What?”

“I almost kissed him tonight,” Jaemin confesses and the playful façade poofs. Twirls in his seat to face the bar once more and silently wishes he had a nice, strong vodka keeping his warm hands cold, and his warm throat even warmer. “He was right there.”

He hears Jeno’s sigh and feels disappointment at the back of his neck. “Oh Jaemin.”

“I know.” Jaemin sighs. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Just try to let go, man.”

His lips curl on their own, bitter and raw and spiteful. “What makes you think I’m not?”

He hates it as much as Jeno does, hates the constricting hold it has on him as much as Jeno does. Hates how Jeno thinks Jaemin likes to feel shitty every night ever since _that_ night when the fantasy shattered and everything broke. His _heart_ broke. How could he enjoy prickling himself time and time again, picking up the pieces?

Jeno doesn’t utter a word, but his eyes tell everything.

Jaemin hears it, everything Jeno has to say, but he chooses to ignore it this time. “I think he’s taking me home tonight.”

_“Jaemin.”_

“It’s just that.” Jaemin takes another sip of his water. “Just a lift home.”

 

* 

 

 **RENJUN OWNS** a convertible, and it is Jaemin’s favorite car of all.

“I miss you Zen,” Jaemin whispers to its red hood, stroking its smooth lining and giving it a loving pat.

Renjun sees this and shakes his head, opening Jaemin’s side of the car and shoving him inside. “You’re spoiling her too much.”

“Beautiful things need to be spoiled.” Jaemin chides, watching Renjun cross over at the other side and slide into the driver’s seat. “Zen the Beauty.”

“Want to look at the stars?”

“Yes please.”

The last time Jaemin was in this car, he had left a silver ring inside the glove compartment. It clicks open under his hand and bears only Renjun’s passport and house keys. There isn’t a ring in sight. He closes it without a breath of word and looks out the window, letting it ferment on his tongue and keeping it to himself. No use asking about it now unless he wants to wound himself on purpose and more than he already is tonight.

“Do you feel alright?” Renjun’s voice cuts through the suave sound of the engine running.

“I feel great,” Jaemin says with an airy smile. “The champagne there is immaculate.”

“Good. That’s... good.”

He lets his mind wander shallowly, just above the tension of deeper thoughts, like an insect walking lightly on the water. Light-weighted enough to stay afloat. He allows himself to remember just enough of it to feel slightly fond but not overly. In this case, Jaemin lets himself remember the time he shared with Renjun and Zen and the moon. Those were happier times. Just them and the stories they tossed around. He allows himself to silently long the ghost of Renjun’s touch on him, setting flickering fires under his skin where his fingers love to linger and hold. He leans on the headrest, sighing and smiling under his breath and ignoring Renjun’s inquiries about what he finds amusing.

He’s only a few inches away from him but he seems far. He feels far. And not even Jaemin’s talent at talking and building bridges can close the insistent gap between them. Not even if he tries reaching for him.

Renjun stopped trying a long time ago.

If Jaemin had any love for himself or at least a bit of self-preservation, he wouldn’t be here in the same passenger seat they made out for the first time. He wouldn’t punish himself just by being here. He knows very well how this will end up. But bad habits die hard, especially those you like to follow along.

He’s lost him. A long time ago. And yet he’s here, scrambling for whatever that remains. No matter how hard he tries, he’s just enough to hold on to him.

So he pretends it’s nothing. He pretends he’s smiling. He pretends he’s drunk to stay relevant. To stay the same Jaemin he knows, even if he’s only a part of who he was once. 

Renjun pulls up on Jaemin’s house, whistling the _Game of Thrones_ theme before sliding out of his seat and tugging Jaemin out of his.

“God, you’re heavy.”

Jaemin chuckles to that.

Renjun tucks him into bed like he always does. Except there were no goodnight kisses or goodnight stories. Just a quick stroke on the cheek and a soft, “Good night, dummy.”

Jaemin lays awake that night, not really drunk on champagne but drunk on something else stronger. More powerful. More intoxicating.

 

*

 

**“HEY, RENJUN!”**

_“I see you’re sounding sprightly. No hangovers?”_

“’Psh, nothing I can’t handle.” Jaemin stares at himself in the mirror with absorption, dipping his finger in the foundation sitting on top of his sink and poking the grey bags under his eyes with the cream. “Wanna hang out today? Need to pick up a book.”

_“Oh, sure. Yangyang wants to come along though. Is that cool?”_

His listless eyes turn sharp on his own reflection, biting his lip until he draws a gem of red. “Yeah, sure.”

_“Great! We’ll pick you up in two hours.”_

Renjun hangs up. Jaemin sniffs and retraces the line of foundation smudged with moisture. Here he goes again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
